The director makes a last-minute decision to go in a bold new direction, and have you all do the play nude. At gunpoint. And hides the costumes.

You could become hopelessly and ridiculously entangled in some prop, making the audience so distracted that they can't pay attention to anything else. Everyone starts giggling, perhaps a buttock is exposed, and you start laughing uncontrolably.

Break a leg, my poppet!

You get a hard-on that won't go down as soon as you step on stage because a woman in the front row is sitting with her legs open and no panties on. As you have been made to wear a toga, the whole audience notices. You address all your lines to her pussy.

You get your hair tangled in some machinery backstage and it rips of your entire scalp, fating you to years of recovery, no new hair growth, pain and disfiguration. . .

No wait. . .that happened to a theater person in my organization. . .never mind.

All your fellow actors and the techies are conspiring against you. They will throw all kinds of curves at you, and wait for you to respond -

One of them will stand right in front of you and shout "It's my eye, dammit" and will then remove his left eye (which turns out to be made of rubber) and bounce it over to you.

A prop phone will ring and an actor will pick it up, say hello, listen for a moment and then say "It's for you." and hand you the phone.

(Seriously, break a leg!)

Okay, just hearing Essexjan say the word pussy in one of my threads just made me shit my pants!

Hoo Hoo Dilly ahoy!

I'll bet the *sound* of essexjan saying pussy, or for that matter, her entire comment, in that British accent (I am assuming here) would be VERY fun to hear. . .

The audience is so rowdy and erupts in so much noise that you cannot hear your own voice, therefore missing cues and directions. Pandemonium ensues, resulting in the entire cast bolting for the exits. Turns out someone released snakes in the theater.

Oh, sorry, and break a leg, LT!

You arrive to find the audience filled with every ex-girlfriend, crush and one night stand you’ve ever had. They all have video cameras and are ready to judge you. And you just got a huge zit that cannot be covered by makeup. Then, just as you are about to go onstage, elizard’s prediction comes true and the play becomes an all nude review.
(I'm pretty sure I had that exact same nightmare once)

Bad Rain Storm.

Break a leg!

You shit your pants onstage, but since the show must go on, you pretend nothing's happened. As your castmates grimace from the smell, you begin your big monologue. You head downstage and the movements cause the poop to wiggle free of your underwear and fall out your pant leg. You try to shake it off (both mentally and literally) and feces fly onto the audience. You panic and try to run offstage, but slip in the poop. You hit your head on a prop and sustain a concussion.

You then fall face down into the poop, and your fellow actors, as well as the audience members, spit on you in disgust and leave. One guy pees on you when he notices you are unconscious. You wake up hours later, dazed and bleeding, smeared in shit, piss and saliva (and some other substances that you don't want to hazard a guess on).

The director leaves a note saying you're out of the show, the stage manager leaves one saying you must pay for the damage you've caused, the theater owner leaves one saying you're liable for the loss of revenue, and the janitor leaves one that reads "clean up your own mess, asshole."

Unfortunately you can't read these notes because you are dazed with a concussion, some moderate brain damage, and a mild case of amnesia. You show up the next day to rehearsal only to be chased after by men with pitchforks and a really nasty litigator hired by the theater owner. You are forced to move to Mexico and change your name and identity. Your new job is the guy who cleans up all the burro poop.

Marki - there would be less than 20 people in the audience if your prediction comes true. (oh wait, crushes also?)

Jesus, there better be three-tiered balconies then, and a special red-roped off section right up front for the MetaGirls alone.

cmonkey unleashes his horde of robotic clowns, who beat you mercilessly with exotic plants and enslave the entire cast, crew, and audience. They take you back to their evil clown robot lair, where you are forced to juggle the heads of those who applauded you while listening to that wretched Black Eyed Peas song. Forever.

Sasshat is so winning right now.

hey, Lips, have a couple shots of whiskey. double. Ok, make them four shots. And go. That'll do it. Let someone else tell you what went wrong, tomorrow!

Chill and have fun.

What Sasshat wrote except:

The director leaves a note saying that was fucking awesome and you are going to be doing that six times a week for the next two years.

Or a combination of the above:

The director makes a last-minute decision to go in a bold new direction, and have you all do the play nude. You get a hard-on that won't go down as soon as you step on stage because a woman in the front row is sitting with her legs open and no panties on. You address all your lines to her pussy.

Being distracted, you could become hopelessly and ridiculously entangled in some prop, making the audience so distracted that they can't pay attention to anything else. In trying to disentangle yourself, you get your hair tangled in some machinery and it rips of your entire scalp, fating you to years of recovery, no new hair growth, pain and disfiguration.

Then you shit your pants ...

Cellphone could start ringing onstage and go through the whole climax. (actualy saw that happen.)

Break a leg, possum!

So how did it go?